


damn, dad, back at it again with messing up my childhood!

by whatsanaccounttoagod



Series: author projects onto tony stark [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Author Projects Once Again, F/M, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Trans Tony Stark, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 02:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16232750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsanaccounttoagod/pseuds/whatsanaccounttoagod
Summary: Tony had a bad childhood. He was aware of this the entire time. He just didn't completely remember it.





	damn, dad, back at it again with messing up my childhood!

**Author's Note:**

> if you're AT ALL sensitive to mentions or descriptions of abuse (physical, sexual, or emotional/verbal), please do not read. there are also mentions/descriptions of self-harm, panic attacks, rape, suicidal thoughts, an attempt, and a lot of invalidation in general, both in the notes and the story. please, just... be safe.
> 
> so i wrote all of this when i was in a bad place mentally and im a little better right now but since my coping mechanism is also the thing causing my distress, maybe this wasn't such a good idea haha
> 
> it's not super graphic except maybe? i didn't tag everything as archive warnings because a lot of it is just mentioned or vaguely described but yeah
> 
> READ THE TAGS. PLEASE.

"...Tony, what happened?" Rhodey asked hesitantly.

"You don't want to know," Tony responded, knowing exactly what his companion was asking about. A few days ago, he'd had a nightmare about Howard that spiraled into a panic attack about Howard that ended up being another sleepless night caused by Howard Fucking Stark. Thanks, Dad.

"I absolutely do," the colonel insisted. "This has been happening since college. You just didn't know what a panic attack was then."

"I did too."

"Let me rephrase that: You couldn't recognize a panic attack when it left you running out of class and sobbing in the bedroom."

"I wasn't sobbing."

"You definitely were." He cleared his throat after indulging Tony's deflection. "What's wrong, Tones?"

He laughed. "I had a completely normal home life. Dear ol' Dad only tried to kill me once or twice. Or ten. Are we counting choking? Make that about nightly." He laughed more, the chuckles quickly losing their humor. "Got stabbed once. Thrown into traffic. Drowned. Poisoned. Don't know why a life-threatening experience was the source of my fu- fucking panic attacks when I'd almost been- when I'd almost been killed on a daily basis as a kid. Should be used to it." His voice was manic as he spit out the words. "Guess that's a- a little fucked up, huh?" Now that the dam had burst, he couldn't  _ shut up _ . "That's not even the most fucked up part."

Rhodey hesitated as if debating whether to hug his partner or take him to a crazy house. Instead, he settled on the ground near Tony's feet. "What is?"

He slid to the floor and laughed again, though the humor was gone. "You'd hate me forever, but don't you already? You tolerate me at best. Nobody loves the poor little rich kid. If they did, they'd show it like  _ he _ did." His voice broke at the end. "Love is- Love is keeping the targets in line. If it wasn't hands around my throat or knives in my arms, it was f- It was fu- It's so disgusting I can't even say it."

Rhodey wrapped his arms around the trembling engineer like they were at MIT and Tony'd woken up vomiting from what he claimed was a hangover. Yeah, he was a drinker, but even Rhodey could tell the difference. The boy at MIT almost never smelled like alcohol when he woke up that way.

Tony, being the emotionally inept overanxious dramatic boy he was, pushed away. "Stop- Stop it."

Rhodey raised an eyebrow and gestured to his leg braces. "I'm stuck, Tones. As long as I'm down here, may as well give you a hug."

"Don't lie. You're disgusted as to how I could let him do that to me. I'm Tony Stark. Iron Man. I should never have let him-"

"Tones," he interrupted, frustrated.

"Rhodey."

"Anthony Edward Stark."

"James."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Bullshit. I should've fought back."

"You were a  _ child. _ "

"I was a Stark."  _ Stark men are made of iron. _

"They're not mutually exclusive."

"I could've been a better kid."  _ Stark men don't cry. _

Rhodey stared in disbelief. "You… You know what? I'm gonna tell you a story. I know someone who's been through Hell and back. He's been hurt in some of the worst ways. Yeah, he fucks up, but he fixes his mistakes."

"I'm not stupid," Tony snapped, eager to end the conversation and let Rhodey leave him alone to wallow for a few years.

"He blames himself for everything that happened to him, even the things out of his control."

"Yeah, it's his fault. He could have listened better, said- said no more, stayed with his- his  _ escort _ ," he choked on the last word. Rhodey was an amazing boyfriend, but who would want to stay with Tony after knowing? He was gross and broken and  _ wrong _ .

It wasn't traumatic. It sucked, but it wasn't traumatic. He  _ knew _ traumatic. This didn't bring the breathlessness or visions of stars or an inability to think logically. It didn't affect him at all.

He swallowed his nausea and glared at the holoscreen far above him, ignoring his shaking hand and racing thoughts.

Rhodey rested a hand on Tony's leg.

He jerked away. "Don't touch me. Please." He rose back to his stool and stared at the open documents.

_ Howard reeked of alcohol as he stared at his child in the nearly-empty parking lot. Apparently, they'd ended up in the only place with 24-hour alcohol stores. "You know," he started. "My dick is really hard right now." _

_ "Howard," Maria scolded. _

_ "There's nobody around to hear us, pumpkin," he pleaded. _

_ Tony's stomach rolled at the thought. His father's "guests" were bad enough. He didn't...  He couldn't…  _

_ "It's wrong," his mother asserted. _

_ Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Howard shoved her onto the trunk of a car by the collar of her shirt. "I decide what's right and wrong. I'm the head of this family. Got it?" _

_ She nodded, and he dropped her. _

_ "I'm not in the mood anymore," he huffed as he glared at Tony. "Maybe some other time." _

_ It didn't spare him a face full of tar and dirt. _

_ Tony didn't come home next summer break. _

"Tones?"

"Yeah?" He tried to blink away the memory, but the dim lights of the parking lot still invaded his lab. He couldn't see his father anymore, though- Oh, never mind. 16-year-old Tony walked just behind his father, always staying out of his direct line of sight. 49-year-old Tony stared off into the space just behind Rhodey's face.

"Are you with me?" His voice twitched with concern.

"Of course," Tony responded automatically. He'd been dealing with these since New York… No. He'd had these since he moved out permanently. He didn't want to acknowledge them, so he ignored them. He ignored the panic attacks and the memories themselves. Ugh, talking about things always drudged them up.

Rhodey said something.

The overlay shifted.

_ "Oh, hi, Dad," Tony squeaked as she walked in. _

_ Howard strode over and lifted Tony by her shirt collar. "What," he hissed, shoving a paper in his daughter's face, "is this?" _

Tony tried once again to blink away the memory, but it stuck like an image burnt into a phone screen.

Rhodey had a phone in his hand and a list of superhero-approved therapists on a previously unoccupied holoscreen. If he really tried, Tony could bring himself to care over the dread sinking in his bones forty years after the fact. He'd forgotten that time. The secondhand discomfort he felt in the girls' uniform was a bit concerning. Maybe this was more severe than he thought. He gagged, and Rhodey glanced over, concern evident on his face.

"Hello, is this Dr. Franklin?... Could I speak with her directly, please?... You see, I can't exactly do that due to the nature of a possible future patient... He has special circumstances… Thank you." While the receptionist likely transferred the phone to the doctor, Rhodey covered the bottom and whispered, "I'm sorry." Going back to the phone, he swallowed and spoke with the doctor.

Tony rested his head on the table and resisted the urge to flinch every time nine-year-old Tony was slammed against the wall or thrown into a table. He'd gotten better at this. Back in college, he'd flinched and screamed and cried at every impact. Now, only his twitchy left arm gave him away.

"I don't think he's exactly in a state to make his own appointment right now… Could you just talk to him for a few minutes? You'll be paid for your time, if that's the issue… I understand. Thank you, Dr. Franklin."

Tony reached out absentmindedly for the phone, knowing exactly how this conversation would go. "Stark."

She paused. "Hello, Mr. Stark. I apologize, but I can only be of limited help over the phone."

"That's fine." Nine-year-old Tony broke her arm. Present-Tony hissed.

"Are you alright?" Dr. Franklin asked, likely assuming he hissed because of personal injury.

That didn't sound so bad. If he could focus on something else, he wouldn't focus on the memories. He'd bury them below the mountains of more important work.

"Mr. Stark?"

Right. He was on the phone. "Yeah, just fine."

"If you start panicking, you're aware of-"

"Yeah. I've done the breathing, I've faced my fears, and it'll be over in a few. If we're done here?"

She sighed. "May we set up an appointment?" At his silence, she continued, "From what your friend told me, you need help. I… I want to help you, okay?"

"I'm Iron Man. I don't need help."

"You're also Tony Stark, and he's just human."

The billionaire raised his eyebrows, though she couldn't see. Damn business phones for being old-fashioned. "Is that a challenge?"

"No, Mr. Stark. Simply an observation."

Something in him snapped. A decision clicked into place. "I'm fine. Bill me. Goodbye." He hung up and passed the phone to a terrified Rhodey.

"What are you planning, Tones?" he asked softly.

"Nothing that affects you," the billionaire replied.

* * *

 

He stared at the hammer as his vision cleared for the first time in hours. After the initial shock of pain, it almost felt… good.

"Boss, your hand appears to be broken," FRIDAY informed him. "Calling Rhodey…"

"No!" he shouted. "Override code 748925. Don't call Rhodey."

She hesitated, but answered, "Call cancelled."

"Thanks, FRI. You're wonderful."

"You need medical attention," she reminded him.

"I need about four bottles of scotch," he muttered back, "but I'm not getting that, either."

He hoped he set his hand right. The last thing he needed was to lose mobility in his fingers.

Legs. Legs are fair game. He can work with limited leg mobility. After all, he had the Iron Man suit and designs for leg braces.

* * *

 

Broken bones were too extreme. He didn't need that level of pain to clear his head.

He nicked himself shaving, and the blood dripping down his face overcame the feeling of someone standing over him, ready to force herself upon him. At least Howard never got that far.

It wouldn't hurt. Just one. It wouldn't scar if he was careful. Even if it did, he could blame it on an accident at the lab. Wouldn't be the first time.

Rhodey knew. He would tell Pepper. They'd both plan to leave him the moment they didn't have to worry about their guilt.

Maybe he could be the one to leave.

There was too much blood to be safe, but his head was clear. He had control.

He ignored the voice in the back of his head saying this controlled him now.

* * *

 

Thin white lines crisscrossed his arms, but he was too warm to cover them. He was always too warm these days.

_ The knife stuck out of his leg as Howard left him to remove it himself. Tony couldn't tell if the knife broke the bone or the other way around. With the amount of food he'd been allowed in the past few days, anything was possible. _

_ You could end this, _ the ever-growing voice in his head whispered.  _ It's a temporary fix. You're never going to get rid of it until you're dead. Wouldn't that be nice? No fear. No memories. Just peace. _

It almost terrified Tony how much he actually considered the suggestion.

* * *

 

"Override code 748925. Don't call either of them," he gasped, blood pooling around him. It made him more nauseous than the memories, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop and there was too much blood and his mind screamed at him to let go. It would all be over. No more memories. No more fear.

_ Just one more, _ he thought as he slid the razor across his arm.

"Calling Peter Parker."

" _ Override code 74- _ "

"I'm sorry, Boss. I should have done this long ago. I can't ignore it any more," the AI murmured. "Override code denied. Duct Tape Protocol enabled."

_ Just one more, _ the broken part of his mind screamed.  _ One more, and it'll all be over. _

He shoved the blade across his arm once again. What was it they said? Down the river, not across the stream? He'd done it the right way, what little blood he had left gushing out of the long wound, and in that moment, Tony didn't want to die. Not with the three people closest to him on their way over now. Not like this, a victim to his own addiction.

His head cleared again, and he shoved his other hand over the cuts. Thank God he wasn't ambidextrous. If he had any proper use of his left hand, he'd've fucked up both arms.

Somehow, Peter got there first. When Tony noticed the Spider-Man suit peeking out from under the hoodie, he realized the kid swung to the recently-reclaimed tower. The spiderling wasted no time in webbing up the wounds and calling orders to FRIDAY. The way he politely thanked her and said, "please," with every request implied respect, while his tone demanded urgency with its restrained panic.

It dawned on Tony that this was Spider-Man. This was the confident, sassy web-slinger loved by many in Queens. Peter was shy and quiet, content to be a follower, but Spider-Man could command a room if necessary and no one would bat an eye.

Tony couldn't hold on much longer. He'd lost too much blood, and he swore his father stood over him with a knife, laughing.

He blacked out as Howard plunged the knife through his chest.

* * *

 

"Are you waking up, Tony?" a familiar woman asked.

"Pepper, he can't answer you if he's asleep," an even more familiar man muttered.

The man in question shot awake and rolled out of the hospital bed into a defensive position. When he almost immediately blacked out again, he decided that was a bad idea. He ended up sitting awkwardly on the floor, now too tangled in the tubes and cords keeping him alive. He stared at the pair sitting right next to the bed.

"Hi," he finally stated, hoping this wasn't as embarrassing as it felt.

"Hi," they responded in sync.

Rhodey recovered first. "Tony, you need to get back in bed. You're malnourished and almost just bled out."

"Wouldn't be the first time," he joked.

Neither of his partners found it funny. In fact, Rhodey found it so unfunny he got up and walked out of the room, calling, "If you're well enough to be a smartass, you're well enough to eat on your own!"

That left Tony and Pepper. Together. Alone. With thousands of unspoken words between them. Tony laid back down on the hospital bed and waited.

Pepper finally broke the silence. "Why?"

Why  _ did _ he do it? It wasn't good. Granted, none of his usual coping mechanisms were good, per se, but they were at least productive. He should've let FRIDAY call them when he crushed his hand. It felt good, though, and he didn't want to give that up at the time. Even now, his scars itched in anticipation.  _ Just one more, _ the voice in his head coaxed. But he couldn't. He  _ wouldn't _ .

Pepper shook her head, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Rhodey said you'd… But I didn't think…"

He had to swallow back his reflexive laugh. He wasn't okay. This wasn't something he could (or even should) laugh about. "Iron Man's been benched for too long." He glanced around the room, internally warring with himself whether he was locating sharp objects to have removed or grab for himself. He hoped it was the former. "I needed an outlet."

Pepper reached for his left arm, hesitating when she saw him flinch. Once he relaxed, she picked it up and inspected the damaged arm. Stitches ran along the length of the vein and a few of his deeper cuts.

Tony hoped she'd never have to see this again. "Have FRI set up an appointment with Dr. Franklin."

"If you think you're not going into inpatient, you're delusional."

_ Howard stared as his child was thrown into the back of what may as well have been a prison van. "She's dangerous," he called when Tony struggled against the guards. "Tried to kill my wife and I. Never would've expected it from our little girl." _

_ When the guards weren't listening, he whispered, "I'm a boy," under his breath. _

"No."

Pepper's eyebrows shot up. "No? The doctors wouldn't even leave you alone in here. If you think you're getting out of it that easily-"

"Please don't send me back there," he whined pitifully.

The door opened, and Howard walked in right behind a couple doctors. The men stared at each other for a moment.

"You're dead," Tony stated as calmly as he could. "I- I saw-"

"Footage can be faked, pumpkin," Howard responded, seating himself right next to Pepper.

The tubes were too restricting. Tony needed to run, before his father-

"What's wrong?" Pepper asked as a doctor frowned at the heart monitor.

He turned to Pepper, then back to his father, then back to Pepper again. "Howard's here."

She raised her eyebrows and glanced around. "He's not here. He's dead, honey."

He pointed at the laughing man and yelled, "He's  _ right there! _ How can't you see him! He's-"

Howard reached for her throat.

" _ No! _ " Tony dove for Howard and face planted on the floor, almost taking Pepper with him. When he opened his eyes, his father was nowhere to be seen. "Where'd he go? He's- He's going to-"

Pepper and the two doctors hoisted him back on the bed. One of the doctors stepped forward and sat on a nearby chair.

"Mr. Stark, I'm Dr. Franklin," she stated. "Your partners requested I stop by when I had time, and your assistant asked for an appointment, so since I was free…"

Tony relaxed, the adrenaline crash leaving him exhausted and numb. "Help," he croaked.

"I'll do my best, okay? But you need to rest. It was a miracle you pulled through, and you're still recovering."

"I'm fine," he muttered reflexively as the next blink lasted a moment too long.

Dr. Franklin just smiled as her new patient drifted off.

* * *

 

Tony steeled himself as he entered the tiny room. A few chairs sat around a tiny rug, and Dr. Franklin told him to make himself at home while she turned on the noise machine. He chose the least comfortable-looking one and dropped the papers her receptionist told him to fill out on the nearby table with trembling hands.

As the therapist settled in, she took the papers and quickly looked through them. She paled almost imperceptibly but regained her composure.

"Mr. Stark-" she began.

"Please, call me Tony," he requested.

"Tony," she corrected, "How are you doing today?"

He responded, "Fine," before he could catch himself. "Or not," he amended.

Dr. Franklin nodded, but didn't seem to be taking any notes. Weren't therapists supposed to record and analyze everything you said? Weren't they supposed to have couches and try to coax your deepest fears out of you and give you some duct tape to fix the broken parts? "What's the issue today?"

"Are you completely ignoring the part where I almost killed myself, or did I imagine that, too?" he half-joked.

She met his eyes, and just for an instant, he saw himself in her. "We have to start with the small things."

He buried the urge to make a dick joke and tried to think of a small problem. Well, he was back at making ridiculous amounts of suits again. What was he on now, Mark LXXIV? Was he even sticking with Roman numerals, or did he just keysmash at this point? He'd accidentally unburied a decent amount of his childhood memories, most of which made him feel nauseous. His dad wouldn't leave him alone even in death, but they said he was just hallucinating. It was so real, though. Not even the memories felt as real as those. Yeah, he knew most people didn't see snippets of their past in split-screen IMAX 3D, but he also knew trauma. He had a whole slew of diagnosed mental issues from the time he was forced into therapy post-arc-reactor-removal. He knew what panic attacks and PTSD looked like in him. This wasn't it.

"Or… big works too. If you're ready," she encouraged.

"I don't know." Tony rubbed his eyes. "I'm blowing it all out of proportion. I'm fine, really."

She looked like Thor when Peter found out he could lift Mjolnir and immediately used that information for pranks. "Then give me your blown-out-of-proportion story, Tony."

Well, at least this one was separate from the rest of his shitty childhood. "So when I was younger, a bad thing happened. Something that should never happen to anyone, much less someone my age. I guess I forgot without forgetting. Like, I'd have an unreasonable hatred for anyone who did it, you know? I… I beat a guy. On the streets. Without my suit. He was going to do something to a poor kid, and I snapped. I snapped and I nearly killed him with my bare hands before Spider-Man pulled me off him."

Dr. Franklin raised an eyebrow. "What happened?"

"I was… I… I can't fucking-" He cut himself off with a hand against his mouth and looked for the nearest trash can. Just in case.

"It's okay, Tony. Breathe."

But all he could feel was her breath on his neck and her hands in places he didn't want to remember. An experiment, she'd said. He'd asked her to stop. Begged her. But she wouldn't let him go until she'd had her share.

"I was 11," he finally forced out, almost gagging on the words.

Understanding flashed in her eyes. She didn't hesitate to pass him the trash can when he clapped a hand over his mouth once again.

* * *

 

Peter'd left one of his CDs in the radio. Tony had no idea why he didn't remove it. It wasn't his kind of music, but whatever. It was in and playing. Might as well roll with it.

_ "I don't know why I just feel I'm better off staying in the same room I was born in." _

He raised an eyebrow at the music and busied himself syncing his taps to the bassline. Hopefully, Peter was just going through his emo phase a few years too late and didn't relate to the lyrics as much as Tony did.

_ "I look outside and see a whole world better off without me in it trying to transform it." _

_ Wow, kid. You really know how to pick 'em, don't you? _ he thought, vaguely recognizing the tune as something Peter would play in the workshop on the rare occasion Tony let him pick the music.

"You are out of my mind, you aren't seeing my side," Tony found himself singing. Maybe he knew this song better than he thought. "You waste all this time trying to get to me, but you are out of my mind."

By the time he hit the chorus, he was almost shouting along to the radio. "Heard you say 'not today…'"

When he got home, he sat down at the piano for the first time in years and hummed a quick scale. B-flat sounded right. From there, the rest of the song came naturally. He got so absorbed in the music he didn't notice Pepper watching until she sat next to him and rubbed between his shoulder blades.

He froze. He took great care to make sure nobody saw or heard him play on the rare occasion he did. He wasn't good enough and they'd hate it and-

He cut off that train of thought. They wouldn't hate him. Even if they did, they had no right to criticize. Pepper could maybe play Chopsticks, and Rhodey had no idea where to start reading music. Peter could play pretty well, but his perfectionism and nerves screwed him over when it came to sharing. Tony didn't have to be perfect. He could just be good.

Maybe he didn't believe it, but if any of the therapy bullshit is true, it couldn't hurt.

* * *

 

"I need to deal with… this," Tony pleaded, gesturing to his scarred arm. "I'm trying, I swear. I'm doing the homework and processing the… experiences… but I'm not getting better. I still have to have Pepper hide my tools when I'm not working, and it took me too long to realize why making the jump from fighting aliens in a tin can to cutting myself open didn't take as much redirecting as it should've. I was doing it to get hurt. I was doing it to die." His first suit was built for self-preservation. The later ones were toys that flooded his veins with adrenaline and distracted him from his thoughts and brought a calm acceptance of the fact that he would most likely die. Dying in battle seemed like it could possibly make up for everything he did. "Iron Man is one convoluted suicide attempt, and I don't think I ever meant him to be."

"Why?" Dr. Franklin almost never asked such a direct question. It was always  _ If you're ready _ and  _ What do you think would help? _

"When I was kidnapped, I was tortured until I'd build a missile for them. They got my weapons. They destroyed villages and militaries with  _ my weapons. _ So I built a suit to escape. And then, when I was alone in the middle of the desert… I didn't care. I was ready to give up then. I told myself it was my fault and I didn't deserve to live when I'd indirectly killed so many others." Opening up took less out of him now. A couple months ago, he wouldn't have been able to finish that statement without clamming up or laughing it off. Maybe this was working after all. "At first, I thought I could help others. Then, in New York. I was the bait. I threw myself in front of the angry aliens and flew a missile into a wormhole and… I was dead. I know I was. The Hulk brought me back."

"Dr. Banner has been known for-"

"Not Banner. The Hulk. He yelled, and I felt my heart restart. I felt the first breath I'd taken in who knows how long." Tony shuffled, blushing. "Big guy has a heart. He's an overprotective green Godzilla with anger management issues."

_ "I'm a fan of the way you lose control and turn into a giant green rage monster." _

The big guy must've heard him and decided to do him a favor.

Dr. Franklin smiled. "I remember it." At his shock, she corrected, "Not that! I was there for New York, and boy, was it a shitshow." She waited for him to compose himself before she continued. "I was in the area, and Iron Man saved my life."

Tony squinted, trying to remember. He rarely, if ever, forgot a name or a face, no matter how much he pretended to.

"I didn't look like this, then." She smiled, rubbing her chin.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I'd just… God, this is supposed to be about you."

"No, go on. You've piqued my interest."

"I'd just started HRT then."

_ Oh, _ he thought. "Supportive family?"

"You're deflecting again," she pointed out.

"No, I'm taking this somewhere. We'll get back to me in a second. Was your family supportive?"

"They tried. They aren't perfect, but they aren't horrible, either."

"Mine was." Tony fiddled with the string of his hoodie. "Horrible. Dear ol' Dad had me taken to a crazy house. Told them I was violent and tried to hurt him. Don't think they noticed I was black and blue until they- oh,  _ fuck. _ "

Howard crossed the room and shot him the same smile he'd become so familiar with.  _ Keep quiet, or your mother's next. _

"You can't hurt me anymore," Tony whispered. "I'm not your little girl."

Dr. Franklin glanced behind her, then gave him a concerned glance. "What do you see?"

"I'm stronger now," he continued. "I'm not who you wanted me to be. I'm better."

"Cutting yourself open and pushing your troubles on others isn't  _ better _ . You're a burden, Anthony."

Tony raised an eyebrow at the hallucination. He wasn't echoing the past anymore. Howard was saying exactly what Tony thought. Well, two could play that game. "It's not weak. I'm getting help, and that's not something I need to be ashamed of."

"You should be smarter than this. You could take care of this yourself if you just tried, but  _ no _ , you had to run off to the first person who would take your money to tell you things you should already know."

Tony strode to Howard and waved a hand through him. He faded into mist. "Leave me alone, Dad."

When all evidence of the man finally dissipated, he turned back to Dr. Franklin. "How do I stop?"

* * *

 

His scars itched as he stared at the blade. FRIDAY was set to alert someone if he so much as touched it without disabling her protocols, and he knew damn well his family sat right next door, waiting for him to come out. They'd hug him whether or not he was successful. Last time, he'd grabbed the offending object before embedding it in the wall, disgusted at his lack of self-control. This time, he'd made it ten minutes without even reaching for it.

Something inside him still longed for the clarity it brought.  _ Just one more, _ it whispered.

Whispered. Not screamed.

He was getting better. He could do this.

Twenty minutes later, he tossed the blade in the trash.

Peter ran in just as it hit the bottom of the trash can. After a quick inspection, he grinned. "I'm so proud of you, Mr. Stark."

Tony was getting better.

He could do this.

* * *

 

He kept his tools in the lab now. Even when he couldn't think and the voice in his head promised relief, he could fight it.

Maybe he could quit other things, too. Alcohol wasn't as much of a necessity as before, but he still couldn't quite make it through a week without some, and even that brought nasty withdrawals.

He settled into bed and glanced at the date. New Years was coming soon, and he might as well ring in the new year with good intentions.

* * *

 

That was a lot of blood.

* * *

 

He woke up in more blood than he remembered falling asleep in.

What happened? He was fine. He'd been better than fine for a while. He hadn't even considered doing anything for weeks. Why did he do it? One minute, he was just working, and the next, he had a boxcutter handle-deep in his arm the wrong way. As he inspected the damage, he winced. He'd managed to cut out entire chunks of skin and meat while he wasn't paying attention. Part of the vein was split, and he once again shoved a hand over his arm.

He didn't want to die. He didn't even want to hurt himself.

Where had he gone wrong?

"Call someone, FRI," he whispered. Blood seeped through his right sleeve, and he glanced down at his shredded shirt. Oh, shit.

"Peter and Rhodey are on their way with doctors. Pepper has been alerted and is arranging a flight back."

He nodded and relaxed. He wasn't dying today.

_ Maybe you'd be better off that way. _

Tony looked around for Howard but found nothing.

_ You can't even keep yourself under control. You should have an iron grip around your emotions. After all, you're Iron Man. You're Tony Stark. You have no weaknesses. _

"A man with nothing to lose is a dangerous thing," he countered.

_ As is a man with hope but no trust. _

"I trust plenty of people. More than you'd like to let me admit."

_ And where has that trust gotten you? _

Peter ran ahead of a string of doctors and EMTs. Rhodey followed behind, pushing a stretcher full of supplies.

When he met their eyes, all he saw was fear.

_ They're afraid of you. _

_ They're afraid  _ **_for_ ** _ me, _ he responded, mentally this time. He was already unstable. Didn't need to concern them more.

He almost fell asleep with his family's fearful faces burned into the back of his eyelids.

"Mr. Stark," one of the EMTs stated, "we're going to take you to the ambulance and get you a blood transfusion, and then you can sleep, okay? But we need you to stay awake until then.

"Di'n't mean to," he slurred. "Di'n't know I was."

"I know, sir." He smiled sadly. "Just stay awake for five more minutes. Can you do that?"

"Make i' three."

"We'll work with it."

Tony laughed, but stopped when he realized it would force blood out faster.

The moment the EMT said, "You can sleep now," he was out.

* * *

 

Tony woke up as May Parker, of all people, refilled his IV. He'd forgotten she was a nurse. "Hey, May," he croaked. "How long?"

She bit her lip. "A few hours. How are you even awake?"

"Spite and caffeine, probably."

"You should've died from blood loss before you got here."

"Had no blood to lose. It was all coffee."

May snorted. "Certainly stained like it. I pity whoever you're going to make clean that mess."

"Dum-E doesn't mind. He's cleaned up worse."

She grinned and stared out the window. "Well, you woke up about fifteen minutes before the ball drop. Want to watch?"

"How are they?"

"Concerned."

"I want to watch with everyone."

She hesitated. "You're beating yourself up over this. I can tell."

"Me? Never."

"You were clean for six months, Stark. Six. I can't imagine how hard that would be. I'm proud of you."

"I could've made it longer. I should have control."

"You have more than I do." She flipped open a laptop and opened a live video. It took a moment for Tony to realize it must be hers. "It's almost a new year. Perfect timing for a fresh start."

He couldn't argue with that logic.

* * *

 

At five minutes before the drop, May returned with Pepper, Rhodey, Peter, and a glass of water. Peter immediately ran over and hopped right on top of Tony, almost crushing him in a super-strength hug. Sometimes, he forgot how strong the kid really was.

Rhodey waited for the spiderling to detach himself and flopped down next to the bundle when he realized Peter wasn't letting go. Pepper followed suit. May pulled a chair up next to the cuddle pile and plugged in a pair of speakers so everyone could hear.

They counted down with the video, and when the ball dropped, his partners fought for the kiss. Pepper won.

"We had plans, Tones," Rhodey whined playfully. "We were going to fly with the fireworks and catch the sparks as we kissed."

Pepper grinned as she pulled away. "Your turn."

Tony poked the still-clingy spiderling on his chest. "Hey, Underoos. I need you to move."

Peter sniffed and pulled away, revealing a giant wet spot right where his head had rested. His eyes were red and puffy.

"What's wrong, kid?" Tony asked, running a hand through the younger's hair.

"I thought I was going to lose another father figure," Peter whispered. "I was scared."

_ Oh, my God, he thinks of me as a father figure.  _  "Hey, I couldn't just leave my favorite kid."

Peter giggled. "I'm your  _ only _ kid, Mr. Stark."

"I have, like, four. Five, if we separate spider-baby from you."

"If we're separating Spider-Man, who's your favorite?"

"Spidey's cool, but not as cool as you."

Peter tucked his head against Tony's heart and cried again. He kept petting the kid's hair. It seemed to calm him down well enough so far.

Just before he fell asleep again, he heard Peter whisper, "I always thought you just wanted Spider-Man."

"For a genius, you somehow manage to be an even bigger idiot than Tony," Pepper jested.

* * *

 

Peter drove Tony home. Happy was busy with Pepper, and Rhodey got called off on some military business. Damn it.

"Mr Stark, can I… talk to you? About this stuff?"

Tony sighed. He really didn't want to talk about it yet. "Shoot, kid."

"After the bite… I wasn't in the best place. Between Uncle Ben dying and Aunt May struggling to make bills, it was hard for me to… And… That's how I discovered my metabolism is absolutely screwed."

A chill ran down his spine. "What did you do, kid?"

"I took a lot of meds. Like, Dramamine and sleeping meds and stuff. They didn't even make me fall asleep, and considering I took way more than the recommended dose, I figured it out pretty quickly." Peter bit his lip. "I didn't feel like there was any reason to keep going, you know? And I needed so much food and used so many medical supplies that sometimes, I figured Aunt May would be better off without me. She'd be able to afford food and stuff again since she wouldn't have a kid who eats more than a horse. I think I stopped after the seventh or eighth try. I don't know. May caught me with the bottle and begged me to stop. I couldn't do that to her anymore." He met Tony's eyes.

"Hey, eyes on the road, kid."

He rolled his eyes and turned away. "So, like… if you ever feel like you're gonna do something? Please, talk to someone. It helped me just to talk to May about it. If you don't know who to talk to… I'm always here. I'll answer your call in the middle of an armed robbery if that's when you need someone, okay?"

"Don't worry about me in the middle of an armed robbery. Actually, don't even intervene in an armed robbery. Leave that to the big guys, got it, Underoos?"

Peter chuckled. "No promises."

"I'll take it. Oh, and Peter?"

He paused at the stoplight and turned.

"If you ever feel like that again, don't hesitate to call me. I'll answer your call in the middle of an alien invasion if that's when you need someone, okay?"

"Don't worry about me in the middle of an alien invasion, Dad." From the way his face changed, Peter'd clearly noticed his slip-up, but chose not to correct it. "I'll be right there with you."

"That worries me  _ more _ , kiddo. You did hear my old reasons for being Iron Man, right?"

He simply cranked the radio and started singing along to "Dying in LA."

* * *

 

He couldn't remember the last time he'd actively hated himself.

Sure, he still hated himself  _ sometimes, _ but it wasn't as constant. It was more an occasional event.

Eight months clean. Six sober.

He couldn't hurt his family like that anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> most of this is based off personal experience?? like. i mean MOST of this. as in everything but the recovery process, which was mostly based off my therapy for other things because i dont have money to get professional help anymore sdjfhsdljk back to crying in the counseling office
> 
> the staring-down-the-blades thing was something i had to do with sharp objects in general just to get closure. i wouldn't ACTIVELY want to hurt myself, but if i sat there with a boxcutter long enough, i'd end up fiddling with it like a pencil with the blade open and only realize what i'd done when id broken skin. i'm getting better though so yay
> 
> PLEASE if you have urges to self-harm or commit suicide, please reach out.  
> national suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> crisis text line: 741741 (text "HOME")  
> trevor project (lgbtq+): 1-866-488-7386 OR text START to 678678
> 
> i'm not very good at the help and talking thing, but i give free hugs if you want one
> 
> for more updates on my fics, follow my [tumblr](whatsanaccounttoagod.tumblr.com).


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